Ionian Grotto
by teammccord
Summary: The paint fight. 4.02.


_This episode. Ahh! So many feelings, so little time. The "'I love you.' ' I kinda love you … a lot.'' nearly killed me it was so adorable. And of course, no McCord home renovation is complete without a paint fight. This is very short, but please leave reviews, I'm desperate and I'll love you forever._

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He taunts her with his wet paintbrush, and she knows he means business. She and Henry have painted too many rooms together over the years for her to underestimate the seriousness of a paint fight with her husband.

"You do not want to get in a paint fight with me," she says, a twinkle in her eye — because really, she wants nothing more than to get in a paint fight with Henry and forget about the world for a little bit.

He must feel the same, because he taps her on the nose, sporting a glint in his eye and a wicked grin. Well then, she thinks. _Game on, boyfriend._

She lunges forward at Henry and they duel with their paintbrushes, like they're in some sort of battle. She's trying to be everywhere at once, and he's following her every move, their eyes locked in on each other. If they didn't both have such competitive streaks, she knows they'd be in hysterics by know, laughing about how stupid they looked.

Instead, she's painting a rather rudimentary number seven on his shirt, and quickly ruining it with another horizontal line. He manages to take a swipe at her glasses, limiting her vision and she retaliates with a whack to his chin.

Her chin is next, followed by his ear. She's somehow kept her shirt safe so far (it really is a favourite) but he's going in for the kill and she knows it.

"Is it? How much do you like it?"

"I like _you_ so much." She tries the flirty route, hoping that it distracts him for long enough and she can get him again. But Henry is two steps ahead of her and pokes her with the brush, a triumphant grin on his face.

"That's my nipple!" Sure enough, her right breast is marked with a nice big splotch of paint. She tries her best to give him a look that could kill — it's worked on many foreign leaders, but her husband might be the only person on earth who thinks it's cute — and shakes her head in mock disappointment.

It's when Henry acts all innocent and offended — "hey, not below the belt!" — that she breaks and starts laughing hysterically.

She drops her paintbrush on the floor and bends over, clutching her stomach. Henry's right with her, in peals of laughter, his eyes tearing up. When he finally catches his breath, he steps over to Elizabeth and cups her cheek, pulling her in for a kiss.

He winds his arms around her back, pulling her soundly into his embrace before tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. Elizabeth grants him access, melting into the kiss and seeking purchase with her arms around his neck, her fingers twining in the hair at the base of it.

She can feel her brain slowly going to mush and realizes that they're probably not going to get much farther with their little home improvement project at this rate. Reluctantly, she pushes herself away, leaving Henry with one of his adorable _'wait, this was good, we were kissing — why aren't we kissing anymore'_ looks on his face.

"We have to finish at least this coat, babe."

He groans in resignation and she laughs, picking up her paintbrush and pointing it at him.

"No funny business, mister," she warns. Then she pushes herself up on her tiptoes and whispers in his ear, her breath hot and voice low so it sends shivers down his spine. "At least until we're upstairs."

When she hears him gulp she's extremely pleased with herself, and she spins on her heel to keep painting, shooting an innocent look over her shoulder as he bends to pick up his own paintbrush.

They paint the rest in silence — it does go much faster when you're painting the wall and not your husband — and Elizabeth can tell Henry is very eager to get this all over with so they can go upstairs and continue where they left off.

When they're finished Henry all but pushes her up the stairs and she can't help but laugh at how eager he is. She's still amazed sometimes that he still wants her after so long together, but then again, she doesn't want this any less. So she grabs his hand and pulls him up the stairs and into their bedroom, latching onto his t-shirt when they enter so she can pull him down for a proper kiss.

He responds immediately, angling his face down and pushing his hands under the fabric of her shirt. She feels it ride up her torso as his hands trace her back, sending shivers down her spine and leaving her all warm and tingly.

She breaks the kiss long enough to get rid of her glasses and shirt, and she watches his eyes roam her body, feeling utterly loved. They look at each other in a moment of tenderness, and Henry rubs his thumb over her cheek.

"I love you," he says, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too." She presses up on her tiptoes again and kisses him hungrily, directing them toward the shower.

The last coherent thing she says is "how easily does paint wash off of skin?" before Henry does something sinful with his tongue and pulls them both under the spray of the water.

Paint comes off fairly easily, she learns, even when removing it isn't the first priority in the shower. She's lying tangled up in the sheets with Henry — still her favourite place in the world — and she can't help but smile and be happy for the fact that they can still joke around with each other like this and have so much _fun_.

"So Ionian Grotto was a good choice, huh?" He jokes and she giggles, smacking his chest playfully. He nibbles on her earlobe before continuing. "I mean, it's resulted in morning sex _and_ shower sex…"

"It was still my choice, mister _they all look alike_."

"I knew I could always count on your solid choices, babe. It's one of the many reasons I married you."

"Ass," she jokes, sticking her tongue out.

"But you love me," he quips.

"Yeah. I do." She leans in for another kiss and thinks that maybe Ionian Grotto can be responsible for even more good things that night.


End file.
